


periodic motion

by wondybread



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondybread/pseuds/wondybread
Summary: Hope and Amy fall in love and love each other. But that's a very delicate thing. And it doesn't take much to send them careening off course.A companion piece to 'witness' although you don't need to have read that beforehand.
Relationships: Amy & Molly (Booksmart), Amy/Hope (Booksmart), Annabelle | Triple A & Hope (Booksmart)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 134





	1. preface

Amy’s on her second layover. In New York. And even though it’s just the airport, Amy feels both culture-shocked and something like nostalgia. New York is so different from Gaborone, fast and smelly and self-sufficient. Not bad but also not the type of place to wait for you to get your bearings. She misses Botswana already.

Still, it’s exciting how she’s in New York right now. She’s never been before, somehow managing to miss it altogether on her trip to Botswana way back in June. She’s not thinking about how it’s fast and smelly but rather as the place that’s going to be her home for the next four years. It’s strange to her that she can be here, in her future home, still not quite a part of it.

But right now, she misses California more. She misses her parents and Molly. It drives her wild how she’s six hours away from home, how that can feel both faraway and just around the corner at the same time. 

When Amy was little, she used to believe that she could teleport. She swore to it. Because no matter where they were coming from, every time she was in a car, she’d fall asleep and a second later she’d be home. At least, that’s what it felt like to seven year-old Amy. She remembers telling her parents this theory earnestly and they’d say nothing, only exchanging an amused glance. Amy kind of wishes she could teleport right now, straight into her bed.

She closes her eyes and only a handful of seconds pass when she hears her phone vibrate.

 _guess who got all a’s this semester?_ reads Hope’s text.

Amy grins. She feels so immensely proud of Hope, not that she's even a little bit surprised.

 _dude that’s amazing!! congrats! how are you gonna celebrate?_ Amy types out.

Amy snorts when Hope’s response comes a beat later: _neck tattoo obviously._ Amy gets a second text. _my parents want to take me out to dinner. we’re just waiting on my sister to get here._

_have fun! text me after? my plane will likely not have boarded yet._ Amy rolls her neck a little. Her layover is six hours long and she's felt every minute crawl by, making her restless for home. 

_when do you board?_

Amy’s gaze flicks to the clock in the corner of her phone. _just under two hours_

_can i call you?_

Amy stares at this message from Hope for a moment, heart racing. She wants to talk to Hope, and it’s not like she hasn’t talked to Hope before. They’ve spoken a handful of times on the phone and even video-chatted at least twice. She can’t really explain it but the fact that Hope is no longer seven hours behind her, the fact that the time difference between them now is only a measly three hours, makes her feel closer to Hope. Because whatever Hope is doing right now, it's happening in real time and Amy gets to hear about it in real time. Unlike in Botswana where it felt like they were sending each other messages in a bottle so to speak. From different time periods, different worlds. 

Amy can practically see the trajectories of their lives hurtling towards each other again. And that both thrills and petrifies her. What's maybe more petrifying and more thrilling is that, despite being in California, Hope reminds Amy of New York. Hope is familiar but Amy hasn’t quite learned who she is yet. All Amy knows is that she wants to. She really wants to. 

_yeah,_ Amy types back. 

Hope calls and Amy answers.

“Hey,” Amy greets nervously. She shifts a little in her chair.

“Hey,” Hope says back. “I just wanted to hear what your voice sounds like now that I know it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.”

Amy laughs. “And? Does it sound different?”

A pause.

“Not at all,” Hope says and Amy doesn’t know how Hope makes it sound like a good thing but she does. Amy’s glad Hope’s not here to see her blush.

“Yeah, well. Congratulations, Dean’s List,” Amy says, smiling wide.

Hope makes a derisive sound. “It’s like, I better have done well. Literally all I had to do was study.”

“And you did. It paid off. Sure, it’s a privilege that you didn’t have to work while you were in school or whatever. But you still worked hard. You still earned it.”

“Yeah but – “

“Just say, ‘Thank you, Amy,’” Amy interrupts playfully.

She hears Hope’s soft chuckle.

“Thank you,” she replies dutifully. Amy suddenly hears voices in the background on Hope's end but can’t make out the words. “My sister just got here,” Hope informs her. “Text me when you land, okay?”

“I will. Bye, Hope.”

“I’ll see you soon, Amy.”

They end the call. Amy leans her head against the wall for a moment, heart fluttering a little because Amy loves the way Hope says her name. There’s something in the way she says it that sounds like a question. It feels a bit like they're circling each other, the space between them becoming smaller and smaller before their inevitable clash. Or maybe Amy’s imagining that.

Amy peeks at the time again on her phone. Thirty-two minutes have passed. But it only felt like a second.

\---

“Whatcha smiling at on your phone there, Hope?”

Hope looks up at her sister in exasperation, knowing she’d purposefully raised her voice a little so that their parents could hear. Hope finds that when her sister is home, they’ll both revert back to their childhood selves. Hope resists the urge to stick her tongue out at her as her parents look at Hope with expectant smiles. 

Hope sighs slightly. “Amy’s just told me that she’s boarding her plane.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten Amy was coming back today,” her dad remarks with a small smile. “Excited?”

“Who’s Amy?” her sister asks, glancing around the table.

Hope was prepared to say, _just a friend_ , but to her horror, her dad beats her to it.

“Hope’s crush.”

Grace swivels around to look at her, mischievous glint in her eyes, as Hope actively tries not to look panic-stricken.

“Hope has a crush? Hope Solo has a crush?”

Hope rolls her eyes. She hates that nickname, she’s never played soccer in her life. She doesn’t even really like it. _It’s not based on the soccer player, dumb-dumb. It’s because you’re a lone wolf,_ her sister had explained to her so many years ago. Still.

“We’re just friends,” Hope replies evenly, hoping everyone will just drop it.

“But you like her, don’t you?” her mom asks, genuinely confused. “You remember her, Gracie. She was that sweet girl who always volunteers at the annual Book Swap at the library,” her mom adds.

“Mom!” Hope says sharply. Her mom turns to Hope again, taken aback.

“What? Amy’s a good kid. And she’s smart. Your father and I have been wondering when you’re going to ask her out on a date,” she answers nonchalantly, reaching for her glass of water as her dad nods in agreement.

“Mom!” Hope repeats testily, eyes widening pointedly.

Hope can see how Grace is trying so hard not to laugh next to her, blinking rapidly and pursing her lips together. 

Mercifully, dessert arrives and the topic of Amy falls away. Hope takes a spoonful of chocolate cake into her mouth, only half listening to her parents discussing the upcoming local film festival. 

Her sister taps the back of Hope's hand to get her attention.

“Mom and dad seem to like Amy, that’s a pretty big deal,” Grace comments softly, eying her carefully. Hope shrugs but says nothing. “And you don’t really get crushes, Hope Solo.”

“Mom and dad haven't even met her. They just like her because they overheard her telling someone about some good books to read on climate change at last year’s Book Swap. And I _do_ get crushes.”

Grace sends her a dubious look and again, Hope has to stop herself from kicking Grace under the table.

“Do you have a picture? I only vaguely remember who she is.”

Hope pulls up Amy’s Instagram, albeit a little reluctantly. Grace peers at Amy's pictures for a moment and Hope begins to grow nervous. Hope realizes that Amy is the first person that Hope has really liked and the first person that she wants Grace to approve of. 

“I remember her now. She goes to a lot of protests,” Grace says finally, brow raised a little, impressed. Hope releases a slow breath as Grace hands Hope’s phone back to her. “She’s pretty.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Hope replies dully despite the blush on her cheeks immediately contradicting her.

Grace grins at her suddenly, reaching over to poke her shoulder.

“You’re so into her. Does she know you’re a bitch and a dork?”

“She knows the first part,” Hope mutters, sticking her spoon into her cake absently. Grace frowns at her, disapproving. “I know, I know. I’ve apologized for it though.”

“Have you?”

Hope thinks on it, well aware of Grace’s somewhat stern gaze on her. Surely, she’s apologized to Amy…right? But the longer Hope thinks about it, the more her heart sinks. _Ah, fuck._

“Hope!”

“I will, I will,” Hope says quickly. “We just started talking after – “

Grace tilts her head and raises a brow when Hope abruptly falls silent but Hope just shakes her head, her eyes flicking to their parents. Grace gives a barely perceptible nod: _you can tell me later._

“So, when _are_ you going to ask her out?” Grace asks with a coy smile before becoming quiet for a moment, a look of realization making its way onto her features. “Shit, I’ll have to stop calling you Hope Solo, huh? What about Hope Duo?”

Hope makes a face. “Grace – “

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s lame.” Grace taps her lips. “Hope Solo No Mo’?”

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up,” Hope says, but she can’t help the laugh that escapes her.

They’re leaving the restaurant when Grace grabs Hope’s hand, letting their parents walk ahead of them towards the car.

“Hope van Dyne, I can’t wait to meet Amy,” Grace declares, squeezing her hand, eyes bright. “I'm going to show her all the family videos of you mispronouncing my name because of your cute little lisp.”

Grace grabs Hope's chin affectionately and Hope swats her hand away somewhat irritably.

“Who’s Hope van Dyne?”

“The Wasp. From _Ant-man and the Wasp_?” Grace elaborates at Hope’s confused expression. Grace frowns like she's disappointed. “You haven’t seen – Jesus, does Amy know you live under a rock?”

Hope rubs a hand across her face.

“Gracie, you can’t embarrass me when I bring her home,” Hope tells her, half exasperated and half pleading. 

Grace stops abruptly and blinks knowing eyes at Hope with smug smile, causing Hope to gasp because she knows how it sounds. It sounds like Hope likes Amy, a lot. That this is a serious thing. Serious enough for Hope to even begin thinking about the future in which she brings Amy to meet her family. Something she's never thought about with a potential partner before. Hope’s been denying it to herself for months, and now here she is, having just confessed it aloud. With her sister as a witness. 

“Shut up,” Hope mutters, dropping Grace’s hand and stalking off towards the car. 

She’s thankful that it’s close to dusk and Grace can’t see the blush on her cheeks. But Grace only laughs because she knows now that Hope’s crush is a little bit more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am, in fact, back on my bullshit! thank you for reading as always


	2. the second beginning pt. 1

Amy has been back from Botswana for a week now but her sleep schedule is still so fucked up. 

She wakes from what she thought was a nap and groans, turning to the clock hanging on her wall. 10:21 pm. She's been asleep for five hours. _Fantastic_ , Amy thinks sarcastically, reaching for her phone under her pillow. 

She sends a heart emoji to her parents’ text, reminding her that they’ve left to visit Amy’s aunt for a couple days. Molly’s also texted her, telling her to text when she wakes up, but Amy figures she’s gone to sleep herself. Amy makes a mental note to text her in the morning. 

She finally comes to a text from Hope, who’s asking her how she’s adjusting to being in the States again. Amy opens it and replies: _i'm very glad to be back. but my sleep schedule doesn’t seem to agree._

 _can’t sleep?_ comes Hope’s immediate reply.

Amy’s a little surprised by how quickly Hope responds but doesn’t think much of it as she types out a reply.

_i’m still on Botswana time apparently. i just woke up from what was meant to be a nap but in actuality turned into a very small coma. now i’m gonna be up all night._

Amy sits up, now suddenly aware of how quiet the house is. Amy’s not necessarily afraid of being alone at home but it is strangely uncomfortable. She was never alone in Botswana. Not really. Even when she was reading in her room at her host family’s house, she could hear them moving throughout the house. Could hear the low hum of her host family’s voices, the soft thud of their footsteps. Amy feels a sudden pang, already misses sitting around the table with them and accompanying them to the market. And the silence in her house here, now, is quieter than ever.

 _well those documentaries won't watch themselves._ reads Hope’s incoming text.

 _no they won't._ Amy pauses, chewing on her lip, her thumbs hesitating over her phone. She starts typing again quickly, hoping her mind doesn’t catch up to her. _do you wanna come over?_

Amy tries not to overthink it as she tosses her phone onto the lower bunk before climbing down herself. She hears a message come in and she reaches for it gingerly.

_sure. i’ll be there in 15._

And even though Amy’s nerves go haywire, the silence of the house seems a little more bearable.

Amy’s just about finished eating her mother’s vegan lasagna. Fifteen minutes have come and gone. But Hope still isn’t here. 

Amy anxiously checks her phone. _Sixteen minutes._ And Hope hasn’t texted. Amy’s fingers itch to check in as her mind reaches for every possible explanation as to why Hope might be late, ranging from _she’s just running a little behind_ to _she’s absolutely ghosting you._

Amy moves to the sink, plate in hand, washing and drying it with care because she has a very specific method. But mostly she just wants to kill time and distract herself from the fact that Hope still isn't here. She’s putting it on the drying rack when she hears a booming knock at the door, causing her to jump.

She thinks of Hope but she doesn’t quite believe it to be her. She’s almost sure Hope would have texted her when she arrived and Amy doesn’t think Hope would knock so loudly. As she’s picking her way around furniture in the darkness, heart beating quickly in her chest, Amy finds herself really wishing Hope was here.

When she peeks through the peep hole of the front door, she doesn’t believe her eyes and takes so long to respond that another knock comes again.

Amy opens the door somewhat slowly. Very, very confused.

Hope stands in front of her and even though her face is turned slightly to the side, not meeting Amy's eyes, Amy can see that Hope’s expression is contorted into one of vague contempt and anger. Hope’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt tucked in under a well-worn jacket. Although not the one that she’s famous for. God, Amy’s missed her. She’s practically exactly as Amy remembers her: still tall, hair tucked behind her ears, eyes dark and lovely. None of their video chats had quite done her justice, Amy realizes.

Hope shifts her hands a little, and the movement catches Amy’s eye, flinging her back into reality abruptly.

Hope is in handcuffs. Two police officers flank her, mouths stretched into thin, grim lines. 

“Amy Antsler?” the officer on Hope’s right says. Amy squints at his name tag, which reads Holms.

“Yes,” she answers tentatively. Amy clears her throat and straightens her back. 

“I’m Officer Holms. Do you know this girl?”

Officer Holms gestures to Hope, her scowl deepening significantly even as her cheeks redden slightly. Although, Amy probably imagined that. The other officer – his name tag reads Johnston – has his head cocked a little to the side as he looks at Amy, brow furrowed. But she doesn’t really notice this. Because what Amy finds really distracting is the sight of Hope in handcuffs. Amy swallows before giving her head a slight shake.

“Yes.”

“Were you aware that she was attempting to scale the side of your house and force entry through a window on the second floor?”

Amy momentarily forgets the handcuffs and herself. She frowns in confusion and alarm, briefly suspects that these officers are trying to set a trap for her. Johnston, who had been frowning vaguely at her, seems to be repressing a smile.

“What?”

“Were you aware – “

“Of course, she’s not aware,” Hope interrupts hotly, and Amy sighs inwardly at the sound of her voice. “I told you that she's my girlfriend and she's just gotten back from a long trip." Hope sneers a little here as she glances at Officer Holms, lip curling in disdain. "I was trying to surprise her.”

_Wait, what?_

“Is that true?” Officer Holms asks, directing the question at Amy.

“Which part? The one where she’s trying to surprise me? Because you understand that there’s no way for me to confirm that,” Amy replies and she's proud that her voice is steady despite how clammy her hands feel.

Hope tilts her head to look at her for the first time since Amy opened the door, eyebrows raised slightly, impressed. And Amy hates it just the tiniest amount because she knows that she’s going to chase that look, knows that she’ll do pretty much anything for Hope to look at her like that again.

But Holms gives her a disgruntled sound, even as Johnston next to him, flashes a brief smile of amusement at her.

“Is it true that you know her?”

“I already answered that. And I did just come back from a trip. Now, if you could please let her go, that’d be great. Unless you have any further questions,” Amy replies coolly. 

Amy can feel Hope’s eyes on her, tries not to buckle under the intensity of her stare as the officer regards her for a moment. Johnston taps him on his elbow and gives his head a small jerk in the direction of their patrol car behind them, still trying not to smile. Holms sighs rather huffily before he reaches into his pocket for the key and unclasps the handcuffs. Amy tries hard not to stare, tries not to appear too triumphant even though a small, small part of her is just the teensiet bit disappointed. Because Hope in handcuffs is...something.

When Hope is released, she moves toward Amy and Amy reaches for Hope’s arm, pulling Hope a little ways behind her and into the house. Amy keeps her hand on Hope as she turns back to the officers.

Holms gives Hope a stern look. “Please don’t do that again, ma’am. You can understand why people might report suspicious activity like that.”

Hope doesn’t reply, only offers a lazy salute.

“Thank you, officers,” Amy tells them, forcing politeness into her tone which is pretty pointless because Amy can't help but roll her eyes a little. “You guys have a good night.”

The officers turn to go but one of them, Johnston, turns back, now grinning with gleaming eyes. Amy tenses and tightens her grip around Hope’s wrist. Amy takes half a step forward and ignores the way Hope looks sideways at her sharply at the movement.

“You know, my daughter will be starting at Harvard this coming fall. And even though her tuition costs less than housing an inmate here, it still seems…excessive. Don’t you agree, Amy?”

 _…what?_ Amy frowns, confused, and even Hope is unerringly silent behind her. But Officer Johnston only chuckles and turns away to Holms who’s looking at him with his jaw on the floor. After a beat, Holms recovers himself as they walk slowly to their patrol car and he smacks Johnston on his shoulder, causing Johnston to giggle.

“What the fuck was that? Are you insane?!”

And with that, still puzzled, Amy shuts the door, dragging Hope inside. Amy makes sure that the door is firmly locked before looking up into Hope’s face for a moment. Hope gives her a small smile, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, nerd.”

And Amy doesn’t care about playing it cool any longer as she throws her arms around Hope, partly because she feels like she’s been playing it cool for a year now and Amy’s missed her, has missed her for so long and with such depth that she imagines it to be stored somewhere just under her ribcage, along her diaphragm, continuously making her breath catch. Amy knows it will take some time to get used to that. But she hugs Hope now also because she wants to make sure she’s alright. Amy feels Hope stiffen but then she relaxes, laying her head against Amy’s as she pulls Amy closer. 

“Are you okay?” Amy asks softly.

“Yeah,” Hope replies in a way that sounds like a sigh.

Amy indulges in the way Hope’s body feels against hers because it’s the first time she’s touched her in a year. Amy squeezes a little tighter before releasing Hope to look up at her with a smirk.

“You were climbing up to my window?”

Hope’s jaw drops a little as if she’d forgotten.

“I had no idea you were such a romantic, Hope,” Amy teases. “Did you come to serenade me too?”

Hope shakes her head slowly, pressing her lips together. Amy’s acutely aware that Hope doesn’t deny it. _Wait, did she? Can Hope sing?_ Amy wracks her brain, mentally sifting through their conversations to see if they’d ever talked about singing. They haven’t. Amy promises herself to ask about it later.

“How else was I supposed to come over without waking your parents?” Hope asks finally, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, my parents aren’t here. They’re out of town visiting my aunt,” Amy informs her, keeping her tone neutral. 

The idea of being alone with Hope is...temperamental, Amy knows. Whatever they end up doing, Amy's just grateful to spend some time with Hope. So, she tries not to draw attention to the fact that they are indeed alone, despite the buzzing just under her sternum that threatens to implode at Hope's touch. But Hope only blinks at her. 

“That would have been helpful to know half an hour ago, Amy.”

“Shit, my bad.”

Hope lets out a small, distracting laugh. Amy’s heard Hope’s laugh before, but it sounds different in person. Less tinny and faraway, more full and here. Amy’s eyes fall to Hope’s lips and she doesn’t know if it’s bravery or recklessness coursing through her veins that makes her speak again.

“Sorry, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for months now. Can I…?”

Hope looks down at her, surprised and a little charmed.

“Yes.”

So Amy does. It’s a chaste kiss. A stark difference from all their kisses before. Amy tries not to rush this one even though every cell in her body remembers exactly what it felt like to rush it, remembers what it felt like to undress Hope so many months ago. Amy pulls away, arguing with herself about why she shouldn’t spend the entire night kissing Hope.

Amy takes a breath.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Amy asks. This seems like a good activity, with plenty of distraction.

Hope grins and it warms Amy’s heart how genuinely excited she seems.

“Yeah.” Hope nods at Amy, gesturing for her to lead the way. They’ve only taken a couple of steps when Hope speaks again.

“What was up with that officer? Kinda creepy, huh?”

And that’s when it hits Amy. She stops and whips around so suddenly that Hope’s sneakers squeak when she stops herself just in time to keep from running into Amy. Amy lets out a laugh at Hope’s puzzled look.

“I know him! God, I can’t believe –” Amy laughs again, shaking her head. “I can’t wait to tell Molly.”

Hope stares at her, similar to the way Holms had stared at Johnston just a few moments before.

“What?”

“Yeah, Johnston! I knew he looked familiar. He arrested me on the night before graduation!”

\---

Hope is following Amy up to her room, having requested a tour before the movie. She feels strangely antsy about it. Hope’s always been pretty curious about things like that, about seeing someone’s room. How the furniture's arranged, if the bed's made, what books are nearby if any. It’s a unique privilege to see how someone lives in a space.

Amy swings open the door and it’s pretty much exactly how Hope pictured it. But it’s also not.

“Sorry for the mess,” Amy says, grabbing a jacket that was strewn across the lower bunk and tossing it on the back of her desk chair. 

Hope wouldn’t describe Amy’s room as messy because it’s not really. It’s just busy. Hope’s not sure if this confirms her feelings for Amy or intensifies them and all Hope can do is smile softly as she looks at Amy’s perfectly made bed, at the her luggage propped open with clothes folded neatly but shifted a little as if Amy had just gone through them and pulled out a shirt. When she glances up at Amy, still grinning, Amy gives her a weak smile in relief. 

Hope moves slowly, peering at the protest signs on Amy’s wall and the books on her shelf as if it were a museum. Hope resists the urge to touch anything and tries to resist falling for Amy a little more. Even though Hope’s sure Amy wouldn’t mind either. Hope looks around again with new eyes, less appraising. More infatuated. Christ, it’s just Amy’s room. It shouldn’t feel so intimate. But it does. Because it’s Amy’s room. Or a room filled with all the things that Amy loves.

Hope forces herself not to roll her eyes at that thought, knowing Amy’s watching her face closely. But shit, it is stupid, how Hope’s feelings for Amy flare, bright and unrelenting, just because she can see what Amy’s currently reading or because her comforter is the perfect shade of yellow. What’s next? Is Hope gonna faint if she sees Amy’s ankle? Whatever.

“I’m surprised you don’t have another closet,” Hope says finally, turning to her with a grin.

Amy frowns like she’s unsure.

“Is that – is that a gay joke?”

“What – no!” Hope taps her foot against the set of drawers labeled ‘Molly’ under the lower bunk. “A second closet for your wife.”

“Not my wife,” Amy responds, striding over to where Hope is standing. “And it actually takes a lot of work to carve out a whole other closet.”

Hope looks sideways at her sharply, brow raised.

“You’ve actually considered it?”

Amy shrugs. “It seemed like a logical solution when we were nine.”

Hope smiles slightly, looking down at her shoes as she imagines little Amy, solemn and honest, telling her parents that they obviously need a second closet for Molly. When she looks up again, some pictures clustered on the wall near Amy’s desk catches her eye and she moves forward a little to get a better look. All of them are of Amy and Molly, some are selfies, some candid shots, some posed. Hope finds Molly fucking annoying sometimes, if she’s being frank. But it’s so obvious how they love each other, how Amy loves Molly. If Hope can say anything about these pictures, she can say that with certainty. 

And perhaps Hope is feeling a little nostalgic but she’s very grateful to know that about Amy because when Hope thinks of high school, Amy and Molly stand out in sharp contrast to the bland nullity of high school. Now, Hope thinks it’s pretty spectacular how Molly and Amy loved each other openly and unapologetically, in a place where everyone else, including herself, ridiculed that sort of thing. _Too cool for school,_ Hope thinks sarcastically. Now – and Hope will admit here, in Amy's room surrounded by all the things that Amy loves – now, Hope craves to be on the receiving end of _that sort of thing._

“Hope, you’re bleeding,” Amy tells her in alarm, moving towards her quickly.

“What? Where?” 

Hope glances down at her hands and arms but sees nothing. Amy touches her chin and tilts her head gently to Hope’s left, and strangely, Hope feels like her own center of gravity tilts right along with it. 

Amy's touch reminds Hope of that night at Nick’s. Not the initial ferocity that Amy had displayed when she’d kissed her and kept kissing her. But specifically the moment when she’s cross-legged in front of Amy who is kneeling on the bathroom floor as they’d kissed and kissed, when Amy had touched her with gentle hands to take her shirt off. Hope remembers with near-perfect clarity the way Amy had stared at her, in a way that Hope didn’t yet understand, making her anxious. Hope remembers her blood pressure spiking so significantly that Hope had to force herself not to bolt, clinging to the bathmat like it would ground her. But then Amy had breathed out _whoa_ , and that grounded her instead, making her head spin so deliriously that Hope had to bite her lip. 

It had only lasted a few seconds but Hope thinks of that moment so often that Annabelle teases her about 'being horny for Amy all the time'. But Hope knows that’s not it. Not quite. Because she thinks endlessly of Amy’s hands, how soft they were. How that softness masks the trail-fire want they’d leave on Hope’s skin.

Amy’s using those same hands on her now, guiding her head up and away, touching her hand to Hope’s neck. And Hope feels now what she had felt then a year ago: Amy’s hands exposing her, and Hope aching to be. Now, just like before, Hope’s joints feel creaky in her effort to remain still.

Amy spins her around so that they’re both standing in front her mirror hanging from her closet door and again, Amy tilts her head away to expose her throat. And like clockwork, Hope stiffens. Instinctively, she shoves her hands into her pockets because she believes, maybe a little irrationally, that they give her away. That, if Amy were to touch them, Amy would know _exactly_ how Hope felt about her in a matter of seconds. Can’t have that.

“Does it hurt?” Amy asks, voice a little anxious. 

She touches a point along Hope’s jaw as Hope inwardly tells herself to breathe in and out. In and out. That’s when she sees the relatively long but shallow cut starting from the middle of her cheek and disappearing under her jaw.

“Oh, that must have happened when – “ Hope clears her throat, eyes shifting away from Amy. “When the officers found me.”

“Did they hurt you?” Amy asks and Hope is shocked by the barely concealed rage in her tone, by the way her expression contorts into something Hope has never seen on Amy before, hard and mask-like.

“No, no,” Hope says quickly. She glances at Amy in the mirror, anger now gone and eyes weirdly bright, before looking away again. “I – uh might have missed a foothold as I was – you know – climbing down.”

Silence. 

Then, Amy speaks again, her tone higher than usual, eyes still shining.

“Are you – telling me you fell out of a tree?”

Hope looks at her again in the mirror, trying not to scowl as Amy’s trying not to laugh.

“I mean, technically no. Because I was like, eight feet off the ground…”

To her credit, Amy tries valiantly to suppress her laughter. But it only lasts a moment before it bursts out of her. Hope only allows it because the sound makes her heart swell even as the heat rises up her neck.

“How can someone who looks like you be so clumsy? Wait, are you legit clumsy? What do you look like when you run? I feel like you can tell if someone's clumsy by the way they run,” Amy tells her, eying her up and down in such a way that is not at all seductive.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know, do you run like Woody or something?” Amy presses.

Hope stills. Annabelle has compared her to Woody before. Many times. But Hope would rather fall out of another tree than tell Amy that.

“You know, I’m a little offended that you weren’t at all concerned for my safety,” Hope grumbles.

Amy lets out a light laugh. “Come on, we’ll get a Band-aid. Bathroom’s next on the tour anyway.”

Hope feels a pang of disappointment as Amy leads the way out of her room, flicking the light off. She’d wanted to stay in Amy’s room a little while longer to look at her pictures and posters and books in the warm light.

They get to the bathroom and Amy reaches into the medicine cabinet for a bandage and some topical antibiotic with a cotton ball. Hope eyes the cut in the mirror, wondering how she’d missed it. It does sting a little. And when Amy moves to clean it, it stings a little more. But then she gives Hope a sympathetic smile and Hope forgets about that for a moment.

“You know, girls like scars,” Amy says a little absently as she sticks the bandage on Hope’s jaw carefully before smoothing it over with gentle fingers. "Means you're tough."

The first question Hope wants to ask is, _do **you** like scars?_ But Hope decides against this. The second question Hope wants to ask is, _how do **you** know girls like scars?_ But she dismisses this too.

“Yeah well, I guess I have to join a biker gang now,” Hope says instead, poking a little at the bandage before glancing at Amy.

Amy leans back to look at her, opens her mouth to say something. Her eyes are shining again like she’s about to tell a joke but she seems to change her mind before she can get the words out.

“Ready to watch a movie?” Amy asks, reaching for her hand.

Before Hope is even aware of what she’s doing, she retracts her hand slightly, out of Amy's reach. Amy’s brow shoots up.

“Sorry,” Amy mutters, face reddening. 

“No, no,” Hope says hastily then stops for a moment. Because how does she explain it? How does she say that when Amy touches her, when Amy touches her hands, Hope feels like she’s made of fault lines? That Amy’s touch is seismic bordering on catastrophic?

“I – uh just have sensitive hands and wrists,” Hope says somewhat feebly.

Amy frowns, bewildered, before her expression smooths into an unsure smile. There’s something else in her smile that Hope can’t quite place. She thinks she remembers seeing it on Amy when Hope had stood on her doorstep a year ago. There’s a sureness to it that makes Hope want to stop and stare. It’s like Amy may not know what the future holds but she's certain of her next step. 

It’s a simple and effortless smile. And Hope simply and effortlessly falls for it.

“Good to know it.”

Amy’s tone is teasing and amused. And her smile’s changed, quirking up in such a way that Hope thinks is just shy of flirty. Or maybe Hope is just so completely attracted to Amy. Who knows. What Hope does know is that she wants to kiss Amy. But Hope can barely hold her hand, much less initiate a kiss. She also thinks that she’d be inviting bad luck from every corner of the universe by kissing Amy in a bathroom again. So she doesn't. But when Hope's following Amy back down the stairs, she finds herself wishing she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't seen your significant other get arrested, is it really love? this chapter was meant to be much, much longer but there's a lot of upheaval going on rn so i broke it up and plan to post very soon. stay safe and thank you for reading!


	3. the second beginning pt. 2

“Your parents know you’re here, right?”

They’re sitting on the couch in Amy’s living room. The Netflix homepage is pulled up on the t.v. and they’re supposed to be searching for a movie to watch. But they’ve spent the last forty-five minutes talking instead.

“Yeah,” Hope answers flippantly, reaching for the popcorn. “They like you. A lot. It’s astonishing, really.”

Amy frowns, startled.

“How? We’ve never met or anything.”

“No, but they know we’ve been talking and stuff, and they remember you from high school. What with all your extracurriculars and how smart you are or whatever.”

“But _how_ do they know all that?” Amy presses. 

Amy doesn’t understand. Has Hope had in-depth conversations with her parents about her? Amy dismisses that because that’s fuckin’ stupid. Hope had hardly spared her a thought in high school. So surely Hope’s parents had spared her even less than that. Hell, Amy’s pretty sure they don’t even know what she looks like.

But she remembers what _they_ look like. Because Amy remembers seeing them. Once. Vividly. 

It was the day of graduation. Most of the students had gone off with their parents but for some reason Amy, Molly, Annabelle, and a host of other students were milling about. Amy had been telling Molly about something but stopped so suddenly that Molly jumped slightly.

“Amy, what are you – “

“Are those Hope’s parents?” Amy asked, jerking her chin at a spot over Molly’s shoulder.

Molly whipped around and Amy leaned around her unabashedly. 

Hope’s back was to them as she stood in front of a man, who had a loose arm wrapped around a woman. His resemblance to Hope was a little uncanny. His eyes were Hope’s exact deep brown, and he had Hope’s defiant chin. But the woman, strangely enough, also had Hope’s eyes, glittering the same way Hope’s would when she was especially and spontaneously joyful. Amy noticed immediately where Hope had inherited her bone structure as Amy watched, entranced, by the way the woman laughed at something Hope had said. And of course, both the man and the woman were exceedingly tall, the woman had at least two inches on Hope and the man even more. They were exceptionally beautiful, standing out sharply as if bending all the sunlight towards them. Something Hope herself managed to do as well, even when she was scowling. Amy now knew where Hope gets it from.

“Goddamn,” Molly muttered and Amy could only nod numbly in response. Neither of them had noticed when Annabelle appeared at their sides with Theo, Tanner, Nick, and Ryan.

“Hope’s parents,” Annabelle confirmed, also staring. 

There had been a string of curse words from all of them at that. Nick had touched a hand to his hair, disbelieving eyes trained on Hope’s dad. Amy even heard a low whistle, presumably from Tanner.

“I had crushes on both of her parents growing up. I low-key wanted them to get a divorce, just for a chance. Not a super appropriate thing to think of your best friend’s parents, but still…not like anyone could blame me,” Annabelle remarked with a shrug, hint of nostalgia in her tone.

And even though Annabelle shook her head a little at the memory, Amy got the impression that Annabelle still sort of wished for that.

But everyone had arrived at her statement a beat later, rounding on Annabelle quite suddenly.

“You and Hope are friends?”

“Annabelle, you’re bi?!”

“Shit,” was Annabelle’s only reply. She met Amy’s wide-eyed stare briefly with a small smile before jerking her head towards Hope and her family again. “Grace, Hope’s older sister. And another crush.”

And, as a unit, everyone whirled around to see another girl striding up to Hope, taking her into her arms and laughing when Hope put up a fight. 

Amy hadn’t even known that Hope had an older sister. Not that they’d talked much during high school. _Or last night_ , her mind supplied unhelpfully. 

Grace had blonde hair and that winning smile that immediately put people at ease. But Grace and Hope standing together made Amy’s jaw drop a little. Because Grace and Hope, while distinctly different but also definitively related, were gorgeous. 

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who thought so as she heard several people, including Molly inhale sharply. She even heard Ryan let out a “Jesus fucking Christ” just as Theo mumbled, “Fuck me.” 

Amy had only stared. _Goddamn._

Amy didn’t doubt that Hope and Grace often received stares. Just like the ones they were receiving now. Amy remembers her heart expanding a little at the way Grace so obviously loves Hope, in the way she had pinched Hope’s cheek and clasped her hand. In the way that Hope quietly allowed all of that to happen, her body so at ease that Amy realized then that Hope is seldom relaxed.

But the moment’s ruined as Gigi flew past them.

“Hey, Hope!”

And everyone turned away frantically, despite the fact that it was still painfully obvious that they had been staring.

Only Annabelle was still watching, her expression now one of faint alarm.

“Ah, shit. Better go take care of that. Gigi!”

Amy thinks about that moment now as she sits next to Hope, about that small, intimate moment of Hope with her family. Her family who adores her. And secretly, Amy’s heart expands again.

Hope eyes her carefully.

“I – uh talked about you a lot.”

Amy blinks. “Really?” 

So Hope did talk about her. It sends Amy reeling, but she pretends to play it cool.

“Well, complained more like,” Hope amends.

Amy frowns, a little disappointed, a little confused. “Oh.”

Hope laughs. 

“I was a bitch, I complained about everything.”

Amy doesn’t know why but she feels that Hope is deflecting a bit. Amy’s still left wondering what exactly Hope would say to her parents about her. Amy saves it to ask about later. 

“Not a bitch,” Amy corrects automatically, her mind supplying her with scenarios of Hope talking about her.

Hope sends her an exasperated look, a flicker of some bright thing in her eyes, but doesn’t reply. Amy doesn’t mind. She knows they’ll come to _that_ conversation later as well. And Amy will be ready.

Amy moves to stand.

“Would you like some coffee?” Amy asks, stretching a bit.

Hope stares at her for a moment, taking her time to respond.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So, decaf?” Amy questions further. “Tea?” Amy adds at Hope’s incredulous look.

“Tea is fine,” Hope answers, a little aghast when she realizes Amy’s not joking.

Amy’s halfway to the kitchen when she hears Hope speak again.

“You don’t give a fuck about sleep hygiene, do you?”

Amy smiles to herself, reaching for the French press.

“Botswana time, remember?” Amy calls back to her.

She hears Hope let out a short laugh. And even though she can’t see Hope, Amy can imagine her eyes, dark and glittering in amusement. Amy realizes now how much she relies on Hope’s eyes. How, even when Amy doesn’t understand them – doesn’t understand Hope – her eyes are honest. Amy knows that she could really fall for that.

\---

Even though they’ve been talking for year and even though Hope has known Amy since kindergarten, Hope finds herself returning to her high school self. The Hope who had watched Amy with intense focus. 

Kissing Amy and almost-hooking up with Amy was spontaneous and dizzying and wonderful. Everything Hope’s ever dreamed of. But Hope still sees it as not-quite-meeting each other. An almost. An unfinished beginning. An unfinished dream.

Hope feels they’re getting there. But it’s a little strange. Because they have to start at the beginning again. Or at least, near the beginning. And now Hope’s tracking every move that Amy makes, lapping up everything Amy says, trying to find her tells and wants and desires. Trying not to fuck it up. Hope’s on high alert. 

But Amy seems to be the opposite. 

They’re in Amy’s home and Hope can tell it’s one of the few places that Amy’s so fully comfortable, that no one’s presence can really disrupt it. And Amy looks it. Her movements are so _fluid_. There’s a leisurely control in Amy’s motions that takes Hope’s breath away. So unlike Hope herself. She _did_ fall out of a tree after all. If Hope believed in parallel universes, she’s certain Amy is a dancer in one of them. 

She watches Amy from the couch as Amy reaches for a mug up high, her jaw soft and hard all at once. When she brings it down, Amy pauses with a vague frown, somehow contradictory to the easy drop of her shoulders, before making her way purposefully into the walk-in pantry.

Hope calls it her thinking face. Realizes she’s only ever seen Amy’s thinking face at school, and even then it was pretty rare. Hope can’t explain it just yet but it’s important and refreshing to her to see Amy’s thinking face at her home instead of at school. 

Hope lets out a breath, a couple of her joints popping as she shifts, still watching. 

Hope doesn’t know Amy. She may know things about her but she doesn’t _know_ her. And Hope’s so ready to do that. But she’s not sure that Amy’s there yet. So, Hope pretends this is casual, pretends that she isn’t choosing Amy every day just for the possibility of seeing all the different sides of Amy that few people are privy to. Of seeing Amy’s thinking face at home.

Amy emerges from the pantry, teabag in hand. In high school, Hope had resisted what she’d felt for Amy. Still does a little, even now. And even now, Hope doesn’t know how to name everything that she feels for her. And…a crooked, sinister part of her believes that Amy is just being her normal, kind self. That she doesn’t want more. 

But when Amy leans all her weight on one leg, shoulders low in an easygoing slouch as she steeps the tea bag, Hope knows somehow that they’ll both end up getting what they want.

“Are you sure your delicate hands can handle a cup of tea?” Amy asks, letting out a self-assured chuckle as she makes her way back to Hope.

“Fuck you, Antsler.”

Amy laughs softly and a sinkhole seems to open up inside Hope’s chest at the sound, yawning and absolute. And Hope can’t help but be a little self-disparaging about it. It’s just Amy’s _laugh_. Hell, Hope has heard it many times before. It shouldn’t feel like discovery. 

“What’s wrong?” Amy asks, catching a glimpse of Hope’s face as she carefully hands the mug to Hope.

“Nothing?” Hope says, bewildered, panicked.

“You’re frowning.”

“That’s just my face.” Hope shrugs.

Because that’s a better answer than _I just think you’re really pretty and I can’t stop staring at you even when you’re half turned away._

Amy frowns in response before a slow smile spills across her features, catching Hope a little off-guard. _Fuck._

“No, it isn’t.”

“Quit trying to ruin my street cred, Antsler,” Hope jokes, deliberately directing her attention to her tea, blowing on it gently. “I know I have an RBF.”

Amy rolls her eyes, reaching for the blanket hanging over the back of the couch and spreading it across Hope’s knees. Amy settles in next to her a moment after, taking a quick sip of her coffee. They’re an arm’s length away from each other, not touching. Hope grips her mug between two hands and tries not to think about her hands all over Amy. On Amy’s cheek, on her shoulder blade. On her waist.

Hope gives her head a slight shake before taking a tentative sip, looking up again at Amy and connecting the freckles on her cheeks to distract herself from thinking about Amy’s actual cheeks, her shoulder blade. Her waist.

“That’s misogynistic. You don’t see anyone saying that about any man ever.”

Hope laughs, readjusting the blanket as she pulls her knees up.

Something on it catches her eye and she smooths it out to get a better look.

“What is this?” Hope asks, plucking gently at the blanket Amy had draped over them as the Baby Looney Toons beam back at her.

Amy reddens a little.

“My mom made a quilt out of my old t-shirts,” she explains. “I can get a different one if you like.”

“You might have to for you because I want to look at every square on this thing,” Hope replies with a cheeky grin as she gives it a sharp tug, the quilt sliding off Amy’s legs.

Hope places her mug gingerly on the coffee table in front of them, running her fingers over the fabric of the quilt with both hands. Amy’s quiet next to her as Hope examines it. It’s a simple enough blanket, soft beneath her fingertips. She sees how some of the squares have faded a little, sees the small ‘Amy, 2009’ sewn into the corner. But again, just like Amy’s room, it seems to dislodge something in Hope. 

“Did you pick out the shirts?” Hope asks.

Hope can guess the answer to this but she feels the need to ask something mild, something that _won’t_ betray the quicksand sensation she feels as she learns more and more about Amy. As she falls for her more and more.

Amy nods a little shyly and fuck, Hope doesn’t know what else to do but adore her. Hope just barely refrains from saying that she can’t wait to meet Amy’s parents. That is _not_ something to say to the girl you are very much not dating. _Not yet_ , her mind whispers. And Hope buries that train of thought deep into the recesses of her mind, grateful for the semi-darkness that hides how her cheeks burn.

“It’s nice. It’s sweet,” Hope says finally, hoping Amy can hear that she means it. It seems she does when she actually blushes, pulling the blanket back towards her and across her legs again.

“It’s really soft too. I might have to steal it,” Hope adds.

Amy laughs. “You’ll have to take it up with Molly. I promised her she could have it in the event of my untimely death.”

“Of course. Those sorts of things do go to the wife,” Hope says, nodding gravely.

Amy flicks some popcorn at her as Hope laughs.

“Maybe not. Those sorts of things can change, you know,” Amy says after a moment, bending over crossed legs to pick up the popcorn pieces from the floor.

Hope fixes her gaze on the way Amy’s hair slides forward, on the curve of her back. Doesn’t miss the slight emphasis Amy places on _those sorts of things_.

Hope says nothing. Because she’s counting on changing _those sorts of things_.

\---

“Honesty hour?” Amy asks, arching an eyebrow. Hope frowns a little confused. “I want you to confess something to me.” And maybe Amy imagines it but Hope seems to perk up a bit at this, eyes bright. “You told the cops I was your girlfriend?”

Amy watches Hope’s face closely, notices how her eyes widen just barely in surprise, like she’s been caught, before she’s giving Amy a half-grin, all swagger and ease. Amy hates how easily she could fall for that smile too.

“Well, it was a good excuse for why a girl might climb up someone’s tree to her window. But it’s also my goal, to make you my girlfriend,” Hope responds, unruffled.

Amy blushes, wants to ask her what exactly she’s waiting for but they’re playing it cool again. They kind of have to actually because the surrounding atmosphere is stifling, like the static in the air just before lightning strikes. Amy feels that there are way too many wrong moves to make. And it’s not like Amy knows what they’re doing, or even what they are. So they play it cool.

Or maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe Amy can forego being girlfriends if it means she can sleep with Hope tonight. Or maybe they should just sleep together and be girlfriends later. Or they can just sleep together and go back to playing it cool. They should just sleep together. Amy glances sideways at Hope, sincerely entertaining the idea. But before she can fully convince herself or create a mental pro and con list, Hope speaks.

“Honesty hour?”

Amy hadn’t intended for it to be a sort of game. But she does feel that it would be a certain type of injustice to say no to Hope. It’s only fair. Amy gives her an encouraging smile.

“What’d you think when you saw me on your doorstep with a couple of cops?”

Amy laughs, partly in relief and partly at the vivid image that presents itself in her mind’s eye. Hope in handcuffs… _Jesus_.

“I was very confused,” Amy replies, briefly wondering if Hope notices how Amy’s gaze shifts to Hope’s wrists. “And I was scared for you, that you’d gotten into trouble. And then I saw your face and I was a little scared of you.”

Hope starts a little at that. “ _Of_ me?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you’d done something. And you can be a little frightening, Hope. Just like you were in high school. Although, I suspect even then that it was a skillfully crafted façade.”

Hope’s eyes are boring into hers, and Amy feels a bit helpless. Abruptly, Hope pushes herself forward onto her knees, throws a hand on the backrest of the couch behind Amy’s head to brace herself. And even though Hope crouches so that they’re at eye level, Amy gets the strange sensation that she’s looking up at Hope. 

Hope moves into Amy’s space, much like she did that night at Nick’s party but without the hostility. Replaced with that heavy, heady want from earlier. Or maybe Amy’s just projecting.

“And do I scare you now?” Hope asks, her voice so low that Amy imagines each word to be sandbags, tying themselves around her ribs, a promising and possibly deadly weight. Making it that much easier for Amy to fall for her. Making it that much easier for Hope to hold her down.

“Yes,” Amy breathes, “and no.”

Hope releases a short breath, barely a chuckle, shaking her head slightly like she can’t quite believe Amy’s honesty. Hope's intensity has seemed to let up a little, giving Amy room to come back to herself. Amy takes this opportunity to regain some control of her feelings.

“I don’t need to ask if I scare _you_ ,” Amy continues, quirking a brow and smothering a grin. “You can barely hold my hand.”

Hope rolls her eyes as sits back on her heels. “Low blow, Anstler.”

Amy laughs lightly, shifting a little to sit up straighter. “It’s true. You can’t even kiss me without my permission.”

Amy’s referring to that night at Nick’s, how Amy led the dance and Hope could only follow. And Hope seems to know this, stilling at Amy’s tone, her eyes darting around a little. Amy smiles slowly, smugly.

“Consent is a requirement, Amy,” Hope tells her feebly.

Amy can't say she knows what's happening right now. But she does know, somehow, that she's gaining leverage.

“It is,” Amy admits, unperturbed. “But you know that’s not what I mean.”

Amy swings forward deliberately, bringing her lips so close to Hope's she can feel Hope's gasp in response. Hope doesn’t move, fixed in place, eyes flicking to Amy’s lips before blinking back up to her eyes.

Amy lifts her chin slightly. “Well?”

Hope doesn’t reply, remains frozen. Amy smirks, having expected that somewhat, and sees something flicker in Hope’s eyes. But she doesn’t wait to figure out what it is because as fun as it is to watch Hope turn to stone, it’s torture for Amy too.

Amy kisses her, marvels at how hot Hope’s lips feel against hers. And it reminds her so much of that night at Nick’s party that it’s the only thing Amy is aware of, kissing Hope. Kissing feels so good, and Amy doesn't dare think about going further. Because the last time they were in this position, Amy tried to rush it. And look how that turned out. 

When Hope slips her tongue past Amy’s lips, Amy feels her resolve buckle a little. But it's when Hope moans into her mouth that Amy's resolve dissipates entirely and she kind of needs more than kissing. Needs more _now_.

Hope breaks away suddenly, and Amy silences the whine she feels building in her throat at the loss of contact.

“You remember that I’m visiting my grandparents in Germany,” Hope says a little breathless. Amy nods, not quite sure why she’s bringing this up right now. “Well, I’m visiting them for the whole summer. In Germany,” Hope tells her, not quite making eye contact. 

Amy remembers Hope mentioning that she was going to visit her grandparents who lived in Europe. She didn’t know it was going to be for the entire summer. But Amy hears the hesitation and disappointment in Hope’s tone, feels a quiet endearment that fills her lungs even as her heart sinks.

“Oh, okay. That’s really cool, Hope, and it sounds like fun. When are you leaving?”

Hope eyes her nervously, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth right along with Amy’s attention.

“Tomorrow,” Hope answers in a small voice.

That makes Amy freeze. Hope must feel her tense because she immediately rushes to explain.

“I was supposed to leave in a couple of months and only spend a few weeks there. But Grace, at the last minute, was able to take time off of work. The thing is, a couple of months from now is Grace’s busiest time at work. So, she told our grandparents that she’d just leave this week instead. And my grandparents were so excited that the both of us were coming to visit that they asked my parents if I could come a bit earlier. They also wanted me to stay until school started because I'd never been before. So, my parents changed my flight,” Hope takes in a breath, glancing down at her hands. “For tomorrow.”

Amy hums noncommittally, unsure what to say or feel.

Hope tilts her head slowly as she stares at Amy. The movement is somehow both alluring and timid, a mixture of the Hope that Amy knows and of the Hope that Amy has never seen before. Amy holds her breath for a moment, knowing full well that if she doesn’t, it’ll come out as an infatuated sigh.

“I –” Hope starts so softly that it sounds like a sigh, making Amy feel strangely connected to her in this moment. “I do want you,” Hope says, her voice still soft even if the words come out a little disjointed.

But what really catches Amy’s attention is the sheer weight that Hope places on the word 'want'. And she really can’t think about its implications right now because she’s already trying not to think about how her own want alone could sink her, sink them both really, all the way to the bottom of a pool. 

“It might be best for us not to…” Hope trails off, rubbing her hands on her jeans. Although, all Amy can think about is Hope’s thighs under her jeans and not the jeans themselves.

Amy licks her lips as she crosses her legs and leans back a little to look at the ceiling for relief. It does help. It still sucks. But it helps.

Finally, Amy gives her a small smile.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. What’s another three months anyway?” And Amy can’t help but chuckle at the way Hope’s looking at her now, dubious and distressed.

“Three months,” she echoes a little ruefully.

And Hope’s lip is jutting out a little. But her eyes are smoldering, burning holes in Amy’s willpower. Amy finds herself leaning towards Hope, just imagining pinning Hope into the cushions behind her with those same eyes.

Amy swallows. 

And then the lights go out.

\---

There’s a power outage. Apparently.

Hope, after running into and cursing at a piece of furniture, peers out the window and sees only darkness on the street.

Amy quickly grabs a few candles and some matches, lighting the candles and placing them strategically around the living room. 

Hope can hardly see Amy. And she knows Amy doesn’t intend it to be, but Hope finds the atmosphere a little romantic. Throwing the rest of the world into shadows, into the background, and shifting something inside Hope into semi-familiar and thrilling territory.

Amy moves closer to her with an abashed grin. Hope knows logically that they have to stand this close in order to see each other’s faces. But it almost feels as if the universe is nudging them towards each other, just to see what Hope will do next. 

It’s clear, even in the dim light, how beautiful Amy is. How immobilizing that is for Hope.

“Do you wanna build a fort?” Hope blurts out before Amy can take another calamitous step toward her.

Amy breaks out into a wide grin.

So, they build a fort.

Amy tries to knock her over with a pillow but Hope catches her mid-swing, raising a playfully stern eyebrow. But Amy only laughs.

Half an hour later, Hope and Amy stand back, admiring their handiwork. They glance at one another and Hope waves her hand towards the entrance.

“I insist,” Hope drawls.

Hope sees how Amy squares her shoulders a little before dropping to her hands and knees and shuffling inside. Hope takes a breath before crawling in after her.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Hope comments, cramming herself into the space next to Amy.

It is pretty big, despite the fact that neither she nor Amy can fully stretch out their legs. Hope pulls her knees up a little and Amy does the same, their knees knocking against each other in a way that makes this space and this moment meaningful. Hope swallows, her heart boomeranging around in her chest.

“Can I ask you something?” Amy asks, brow furrowing thoughtfully.

Hope looks up at her.

“Sure,” Hope answers slowly. She’s kind of hoping that it’s not another confession type thing. She doesn’t have any real resistance to being honest with Amy, she never has. But that’s the issue. Hope knows that if Amy asked her how she felt right now, Hope would tell her without hesitation. Hope tries not to read too much into that.

“Why did you give me your number on a piece of paper?”

Hope stares at her. She sort of gets what Amy’s asking, but she’s surprised Amy’s asking it. Hope thought it was obvious.

Hope goes with the safe answer. “So you could have it…?”

“You didn’t put it into my phone. You didn’t ask me for my number.”

Hope glances away, mulling over how she wants to answer. 

_She_ knows why she did that. That night at Nick’s aunt’s house was fateful. Hope and Amy coming together because they were in right place at the right time, because the cosmos aligned in just the right way. But it was also chance. Because Hope suspects that if even the smallest thing about that evening had changed, they would _not_ have ended up in that bathroom together. Much less kissing and touching and everything else Hope has wanted for awhile now. 

But what did Amy want? Sure, Amy had kissed her, undressed her. But Hope had no idea if Amy wanted her. Hell, Amy hasn’t so much as looked at her for twelve years. And then they’re dumped together into a bathroom just because Atlas shrugged? Hope’s not a gambler. So she’d do practically anything to know that Amy wanted her back. 

“I wanted to give you an out,” Hope answers finally. “Just in case this – “ Hope waves a hand between them. “ – wasn’t something you wanted.” Hope pauses. “I knew it wasn’t _my_ butthole you were going for.”

Amy blanches. “Too soon.”

“Been a year,” Hope shoots back with a grin. 

“You saw Ryan and I?” Amy asks her quietly.

Hope nods. Conveniently leaves out how it had bothered her, so much so that it was the predominant reason she ended up in that bathroom anyway.

“Yeah well, looks like she wasn’t super into girls,” Amy mutters.

Hope doesn’t say anything for a moment, feeling shadows of jealousy prickling at her. Which is stupid. She and Amy are just talking. And all that stuff is in the past.

“She’s actually just starting to come into her bisexuality,” Hope replies.

“What?” Amy asks, shocked.

Hope nods. “Yep. Her and Annabelle still talk sometimes. She’s dating a girl in college or something? I don’t know the details. Would you like her number?” Hope asks innocently.

Amy glares at her. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Amy’s teasing her, but Hope doesn’t miss the precise edge in her tone. How could she miss it when she’s so, so attracted to it?

“You know, I thought you were straight,” Amy tells her after a moment, glancing at her curiously.

“How heteronormative of you,” Hope says. Then she shrugs. “I get that a lot.”

Amy takes a deep breath, like she’s steeling herself. But also as if she’s feeling…wistful?

“If I had known…” Amy trails off, biting her lip thoughtfully. “I _didn’t_ know and I’d written you off. Why bother pining for you if you were straight?”

Amy's tone is playful but Hope can’t help roll her eyes a little, even as her heart skips a beat at Amy's implications.

“Amy, you hardly noticed me in school. I don’t think much would have changed.”

Hope's grip on her knees tightens a little, kind of wishing she had said something else. Doesn’t really want to talk about the fact that she longed for Amy, that it bothered the ever-loving shit out of Hope that Amy didn’t even notice her. 

Amy turns her head, blinking a few times as if she’d just realized Hope was there.

“You thought I didn’t notice you?” Amy asks, giving her a wide-eyed stare.

Hope tries not to wince. Of course Amy had noticed her. Hope was cruel, after all. It’s her own fault that Amy didn’t notice her in the way that she wanted. 

Hope takes a deep breath, ignoring the guilt squirming around in her gut and making her feel like lead. 

“Since I leave for Germany in –” Hope glances at her watch. “– six hours, I’d rather not talk about how I was in high school.” Amy frowns in confusion but Hope continues. “Tell me about Botswana.”

Amy gives her a dazzling smile and Hope has to remind herself to breathe.

\---

“Amy.”

They'd fallen asleep in the fort. Well, what used to be a fort. As soon as they'd stretched out to lay down, all the pillows and blankets came tumbling down. Hope hadn't seemed to mind though, far too exhausted to do little else but burrow further under the pile of pillows and blankets. Amy had felt an inexplicable warmth at the sight before settling in next to her.

Amy peers at Hope through one eye, trying not to groan.

Hope gives her a soft smile. “I have to go.”

Amy closes her eyes, tugging at Hope’s hand as she does so.

“Two minutes.”

Amy hears Hope chuckle.

“Can’t. My sister’s saying I’m already late and is threatening fratricide.”

Almost against her will, Amy feels the corners her lips tug downward. When she opens them again, Hope is smothering a smile, waiting patiently.

Amy sighs and sits up a little, letting go of Hope’s warm hand in the process. Amy’s still very tired, she can feel it behind her eyes. She doesn’t regret it though. She and Hope had stayed up talking until well past four a.m. But she doesn’t get how Hope can look so awake on barely three hours of sleep. Much less look like a goddamn goddess. 

Hope smiles wide. _Unfair_.

“I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

Amy can’t help but question how the crater of missing Hope can feel this hollow and this large. So large Amy feels as if she can’t reach its edges. Amy doesn’t know what to make of that. But then Hope speaks again and she's glad that she doesn’t have to know just yet.

“I made coffee and pancakes, by the way.” Hope stands and moves toward the door, her footsteps a little hurried. She shoots Amy a look a little suddenly, somber. “I’ll see you soon, Amy.”

Hope frowns a little after this, like she hates that she has to say it.

“I’ll see you in New York, Hope,” Amy tells her quietly.

And Amy feels that crater again, looming above her and within her. But Amy notices how Hope lingers a moment in the doorway and Amy’s grateful that she’s not alone in it.

Hope waves and turns to go.

“Wait, are the pancakes good?”

Hope grins. “You’ll have to tell me. I’m more of a waffles girl.”

And with that, Hope gives another wave and is gone, the door shutting softly behind her.

Amy considers turning over and going back to sleep but she doesn’t. She forces herself to her feet, folding the blankets into a neat stack and cursing herself a little for not having kissed Hope goodbye.

Amy pours herself coffee and takes a sip, decides it’s better than what Amy’s had in awhile. But perhaps she’s just making allowances because Hope made it. But when she reaches for the still-warm pancakes, sticking a forkful into her mouth, she thinks Hope's pancakes may be her favorite. 

She takes another bite and detects a hint of something else in its flavor.

Amy reaches for her phone. _did you put cinnamon in here?_

It takes Hope about fifteen minutes to reply back: _only if you’re impressed._

Amy is. Because for whatever reason, she never thought to put anything in her pancake mix. She thinks about replying nonchalantly, trying to avoid coming off too eager or too sincere. Because they’re still playing it cool. But then Amy thinks how harmless a little form of digitized text really is and sends something she thinks is a little braver.

_i am. can’t wait for you to make them again._ When she hits send and realizes how that sounds, she sends a rather horrified second text. _not like after sex or because women belong in the kitchen or some other bullshit._

If it were any other time, Amy would marvel at her own potential to make things worse. As Amy tries to figure out how to make it un-worse and to not panic, Hope texts her again.

_it’s only bullshit without consent_

Amy snorts and taps out of her messages to look at the news, taking another bite. It really is good and it makes Amy want to go back for more. Much like how Hope makes her want more. 

Amy really needs these next few months to fly by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that wasn't soon at all. my bad. some parts of this really disliked me and editing was...rough. anyway this chapter was brought to you by aly and aj's entire discography but particularly their ep's from the last couple of years. (but especially their song 'good love' which is a banger). also, let it be known, not a single character mentioned in here is straight. maybe hope's parents, but i could be swayed. thank you for reading.


	4. dynamic equilibrium pt. 1

_This is so fucking stupid,_ Hope thinks, self-deprecating.

Hope is standing outside. On the concrete sidewalk just outside Amy’s dorm, clenching and unclenching her hand around the handles of her luggage.

Hope tries to peer through the open doors surreptitiously but can’t make out much of the inside. It’s strange that she feels nervous to see Amy. She shouldn’t. They’ve been talking and Hope literally saw her three months ago. They’ve done all this before. And yet…

Hope turns her face to the sun as she takes a deep breath. But it doesn’t help. Well, it helps a little but she still feels like bolting. She _could_ leave. She’s about an hour early, after all. She could chill at a coffee shop and come back at the time Amy’s expecting her. But Hope decides against this and it’s not because she’s being brave, she's not Amy. It’s solely due to the fact that her suitcases are much too heavy to be lugging around New York.

Hope sighs and shifts her weight from foot to foot as a couple of girls breeze past her and into the dorm. Hope glances at her phone, confirming Amy’s dorm and floor for the hundredth time, feels a bead of sweat trickle down her back. 

Hope takes a breath to steel herself before reaching for the handles on her luggage and dragging them after her as she steps into the dorm. It’s only marginally cooler inside but Hope chalks that up to her nerves.

_Stupid._

Hope knocks on the door before she can talk herself out of it. The seconds crawl by and it makes Hope think wildly that she actually managed to get the wrong room despite her constant checking. 

But then Amy opens the door, and Hope inadvertently sucks in a breath. The first thing Hope notices about Amy is her lips but she quickly diverts her attention away from them. Amy looks up at her, adorably bewildered and unquestionably radiant. She’s wearing a Crockett t-shirt and sweatpants holy fuck she looks so good. Hope has never known anyone be so beautiful yet so casual in a t-shirt and sweatpants. But here is Amy, proving her wrong. Which, when Hope thinks about it, makes a whole lot of sense.

“Hope?”

“Hello,” Hope greets a little breathlessly.

“What are you doing here?” Amy asks, scrunching her nose up in such a way that Hope has to take a moment to answer, a little unsure but mostly charmed.

“I got an earlier flight.” Hope pauses, taking Amy in as Amy stares. Hope tries not to squirm under her scrutiny. “Should I come back later?”

“Shit, no. Come in,” Amy answers quickly, giving her head a slight shake as she opens the door wider.

Amy reaches forward for Hope’s other suitcase automatically and Hope can’t help but grin a little at Amy who is always kind and always helping. Hope shuts the door, heart hammering, as she watches Amy come to a stop and frowns at her t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I should change,” Amy murmurs to herself, causing Hope to smile again and she reaches forward almost unthinkingly. Hope plucks affectionately at the pocket of Amy’s sweatpants, and Amy curls in a little into Hope’s arms. Hope’s heart races at the contact.

“I think you look fine,” Hope says, her eyes drifting to Amy’s lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Amy looks at her in surprise and Hope almost begins to backtrack as she hates herself for being so forward.

But then Amy gives a soft _yeah_ and Hope leans down with a slight smile, watching Amy’s lips. As soon as their lips touch, Hope forgets everything and Amy takes the lead. Hope finds herself unable to keep the desire out of her lips and she pushes her tongue against Amy’s, who immediately reacts, touching Hope’s warm skin and making it so, so hot.

Hope pulls away first, her lips still buzzing as if she can still feel Amy against her.

“I wanted to see if it was as good as I remember,” Hope comments softly, mostly to herself but she can tell Amy catches it.

Amy’s eyes root Hope to the spot somehow, bright and inviting. Hope can’t help but wonder about who else might have fallen for those eyes.

Amy had told her quite a bit about her adventures in Botswana, and yet Hope still has so many questions burning in her throat. Because even though they’ve been talking practically every day for over year, a thought prowls in the back of her mind: that Hope is thoroughly infatuated with Amy and Amy is merely curious about her.

Hope stifles a shiver, reaching for the whiskey in the pocket of her luggage.

They play a game and Hope confesses to more than she intends. But Amy kisses her over and over so she doesn’t mind it so much.

It’s past midnight and Amy turns in Hope’s arms. Hope can tell she’s awake.

“No confession, but I have to ask,” Amy whispers, and she’s so close to Hope that Hope can feel her hot breath on her skin. Hope resists the urge to kiss her again.

“What?” Hope asks.

“You’ve really liked me since junior high?” Hope stiffens and Amy must feel it because she rushes to add, “You don’t have to answer. I just…wanted to know.”

Hope hesitates, feeling too bare and too open. But Amy scooches closer to Hope as she lays a loose hand against the small of Hope’s back.

“Yes,” she answers finally. “I mean, I didn’t _know_ back then…but yeah. Annabelle only just recently pointed out that my – singular focus on you was attraction. That all those times in junior high and high school meant more than just like, verbal abuse." Amy chuckles here and Hope continues, emboldened somehow. "But _I_ started realizing it a few months at the end of senior year. It was starting to become a problem actually,” Hope adds as an afterthought.

“A problem? Why?” Amy asks and Hope can just make out Amy’s expression, the dip in her brow as she frowns, lips twisted in thought. _Because of shit like that,_ Hope’s mind supplies in a tone of exasperation that she adopts whenever Amy is unknowingly breath-taking. 

“Just that I was starting to imagine what it would be like – to be with you, to date you,” Hope says quietly, looking down at her hands even though she can’t really see Amy’s face. “Sometimes, I’d get…distracted in class. Ms. Fine was particularly up my ass about it.”

Amy’s quiet for a moment and Hope thinks that she’s said too much. But then Amy shifts forward, lips against Hope’s ear.

“I really missed you, Hope.”

Hope can feel Amy rubbing soft, slow circles on her back and it would be a tender gesture if Hope hadn’t been thinking of sleeping with Amy for over three months. Unthinkingly, Hope shifts forward, her skin meeting Amy’s in a way that makes her crave Amy even more.

Amy kisses her, hard. Hope slips her hand under Amy’s shirt before drawing back abruptly.

“This is okay, right?” Hope asks a little nervously. 

Why is she even nervous? Amy kissed her and Hope wants Amy to keep kissing her. Desperately.

“Yes,” Amy answers quickly before clearing her throat. “Sorry, was that too eager? Wait, do you even want – “

“Yes,” Hope interrupts breathlessly. And before Hope knows it, Amy slides out of her shirt with the flick of her wrist as Hope inhales sharply, feeling more of Amy’s skin beneath her hands and short-circuiting on that sensation alone.

Amy kisses her again, takes control. And Hope simply submits because it’s easy.

\---

Amy’s over Hope’s apartment when Annabelle FaceTimes her.

“Hey, dude. You busy?”

“Nah. Me and Amy are just studying,” Hope replies.

She flips the camera towards Amy, who gives a quick wave and a smile.

“Hi, Annabelle. I’m excited to see you and Molly in September.”

Annabelle grins back. “Same. I’m ready for a real tour of New York too. Because _someone_ apparently loves the hermit life.”

Hope turns the camera back toward her with an affronted look.

“I showed you the Statue of Liberty!”

“On Google images, you dumbfuck!” Amy hears Annabelle counter.

“On _streetview_!” Hope corrects with a laugh. “You’re welcome.”

Amy smiles as she moves to grab her books and computer. Amy usually moves to a different area when Hope is talking to Annabelle. Hope’s never asked her to. But Amy knows how different it can be talking to your best friend with other people in the room.

“Hey, I’m gonna study in the living room so you can talk,” Amy tells Hope softly.

“You can stay, Amy. It shouldn’t take long. I was just gonna tell Hope that I’m going on a date with this guy.”

As Amy settles back in Hope’s chair, she notices how Hope’s brow shoots up, her hand hovering a little awkwardly over her notebook that she’d just been about to reach for.

“Oh, yeah?”

Amy can tell Hope is still surprised, her back rigid and unmoving. Amy’s curious about Hope’s reaction. _Strange._

“Yeah. His name’s Ben. I met him at the library. He’s taking me to a country music concert or whatever.”

Hope blinks at her, jaw dropping a little.

“Country music? Annabelle, you hate country music.”

“Not true. I like Orville Peck.”

“You just like his aesthetic,” Hope replies, still aghast.

“Dolly Parton.”

“You like two songs, Annabelle. And even then, you don’t know the names of those songs. I have to tell you every time.”

“Nelly.”

And that surprises Hope so much that she falls silent, only looks to Amy helplessly, who tries not to laugh and gives her a shrug in return.

Hope finally gives her head a slight shake.

“Okay, whatever. When are you going?”

“Tonight.”

Hope nods. “Okay. Call me after. And don’t forget to give Molly your location.”

“I will,” Annabelle says softly. And Amy can’t explain it, but the way Annabelle replies seems significant, like it’s supposed to mean something else, something deeper than what it is.

Annabelle and Hope bid each other goodbye and Hope rises from her chair to stretch.

“So, Annabelle’s going on a date. That’s nice,” Amy comments, somewhat distracted by Hope’s arms reaching for the ceiling.

Hope hums but doesn’t say anything, which strikes Amy as strange although she can’t exactly say why. Amy eyes Hope shrewdly as Hope settles back into her chair.

“I just worry,” Hope admits finally. 

Amy gives her a calculating look. She knows Hope has just expressed something quite vulnerable and if Amy’s being honest, it makes her breath hitch a little. But it also looks like she wants to say more but doesn’t for whatever reason.

“Annabelle’s a smart girl,” Amy says. “And anyway, Molly’s there if she needs her.”

Hope nods a little distractedly, her frown deepening unexpectedly, leaving Amy bewildered. But before she can comment on it, Hope seems to catch herself and she’s smiling again at Amy.

“I really hope she does call me. She really fuckin’ hates country music.”

\---

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Hope asks, practically wincing at how obviously different her voice sounds. Stupid nerves. Why should she even be nervous? She’s taken a ton of people’s portraits before. It’s not a big deal. 

But then Amy looks up at her tone, frowning curiously. And Hope corrects herself, because it is a big deal. Amy’s a big deal.

“Uh sure?”

“I was hoping you’d let me shoot you one of these days,” Hope says oh-so-casually. But when Amy still looks confused, Hope mimics taking a picture of her then tries not to groan at how stupid that must look.

“Like an actual photoshoot? Not candid?”

And because Amy seems to be actually considering it, Hope’s mind flies to various locations that they could use.

“Some would be candid probably,” Hope answers thoughtfully. “But yes, more like an actual photoshoot.”

“You want to shoot me?” Amy asks after a moment, so shyly that Hope’s heart immediately melts.

“Well, yeah,” Hope says, gentle and infatuated as she reaches over to squeeze Amy’s hand briefly. “You can say no. But if it changes anything, you’ll get a stellar profile pic out of it.”

Amy laughs. “Well, when you put it like that…” Her expression softens as Hope looks at her expectantly. “Sure.”

A week later, Hope moves to get a different angle as Amy stretches a little, her joints popping soundly. 

“Amy, you don’t have to be so tense,” Hope tells her.

“It’s nerve-wracking having you shoot me,” Amy says, waving her arms a bit before her expression settles into exasperated frown.

Hope snaps a photo of her like that and Amy sends her a glare, gesturing to Hope’s camera as if to say _see?_

“Why?”

Hope lifts her camera again, rushing to capture how the light falls on Amy.

“Because you’re…looking at me,” Amy tells her lamely.

Hope lowers the camera and swallows. A part of her wants to remain silent. But this is a small, archaic part of her. The part of her that only admired Amy from afar in high school. That’s not who she is anymore so the rest of her just takes in the sight of Amy.

“I always look at you,” Hope sighs, “Remember?”

Hope can tell that Amy does. Amy rises and strides over to her, confident and relaxed. Hope remains in her crouched position, desperately wanting to grab a picture of this Amy but too stunned to move.

“And I was too stupid to notice,” Amy replies, laying a languid hand on Hope’s shoulder. Hope wonders if Amy can feel how she stiffens.

“Too busy to notice,” Hope mutters, cheeks burning as she turns to look at her camera but Amy doesn’t let her.

“Not anymore,” Amy says barely registering what she’s saying before she kisses Hope.

And Hope feels something buckle inside herself, and all she can do is put all her energy into kissing Amy back. So, of course, she can’t stop them from toppling over.

They land in a heap. Amy's seemingly unharmed, as she lays sprawled across Hope's body. Hope, on the other hand...Amy laughs as Hope groans, her camera jammed uncomfortably into her side.

Hope shifts a little and this seems to help. “You're being distracting on purpose.”

Amy doesn’t say anything, only grins before climbing off Hope and moving back to the chair. As Hope looks up at her, reaching for her camera automatically and holding it up to her eye, Hope comes to a realization so jarring that she isn’t entirely sure she captured the photo she wanted.

Hope’s in love with Amy. She feels it when she looks at Amy now, her cheeks flushed and hair tousled just so. She feels it when she looks at Amy through the viewfinder.

Despite her thoughts going haywire, Hope feels fairly calm, her hand steady as she presses the shutter button. And yet, Hope can’t help but wonder if Amy can tell, can see Hope actively falling in love with her in this very moment.

Amy slouches in her seat and gives Hope a half-grin. And Hope gets a picture of this just as Amy seamlessly slips into a goofy expression. Amy must hear the click of the shutter because then she’s serious and sultry again. _God._ Hope is so in awe and so in love she barely registers what she’s doing. Only wants to keep looking at Amy. Hope’s grateful that she’s been doing this photography thing for awhile and it’s become somewhat second nature.

But only a few minutes pass when they both hear Amy’s phone alert her to a text. She reaches into her pocket to look at it, a frown clouding her features. _Maybe clouding is the wrong word,_ Hope muses. Just a different kind of beautiful. 

Hope holds her breath as she presses the shutter button. Hope lowers her camera again when Amy looks at her with a troubled expression.

“I’m sorry, Hope but I have to go in to my internship. My boss can’t find some files for a project we completed? So, I have to pull them up for her. And apparently she wants to review them with me.”

Amy frowns, shaking her head but Hope knows that Amy wants to make a good impression, especially because she only recently started this internship. Hope gets it. Although, she’s almost positive that Amy could never make a bad impression. Secretly, Hope is a little glad for the reprieve of cutting this short. Hope is convinced that if they’d went on for a moment longer that Amy would find out that Hope’s in love. And run for the hills because holy fuck, she’s in love Amy Antsler. Not a surprise but it’s a massive step forward. A massive _conscious_ step forward. Which means she’ll eventually have to say it. The thought makes her dizzy in the good way and the bad way.

Hope waves a dismissive hand.

“It’s fine. Go. I think I got some good shots anyway.”

Amy makes her way over to Hope, grabbing her coat along the way.

“Thanks for being so cool. I’ll make it up to you,” Amy says, breathing the last few words against Hope’s lips before kissing her. And Hope feels it again, that sensation of yielding to Amy in way that’s deeply familiar but more absolute and apparent. But before Hope can dwell on it, Amy is pulling away and stepping out the door.

Hope reaches for her own phone, heart still pounding and types out a message to Annabelle.

_i think i’m in love with amy?_

Annabelle’s reply is immediate, dripping with sarcasm. _…yeah hope…did you not know?_

Annabelle doesn’t wait for Hope’s reply. Because as soon as Hope’s done reading the message, Annabelle calls her. Which is good because Hope doesn’t understand how she’s low-key freaking out about something that is apparently very obvious.

\---

“Ah, shit,” Amy says as she glances at a text on her phone. “Jane needs me to find the reports for last quarter. Their meeting is in a week and apparently the interns haven’t made the presentation yet.”

“Right now? It’s eight p.m.,” Hope says after a look at her watch.

They were supposed to watch a movie together, what with both of them wrapping up finals. Amy’s first set of finals, Hope had pointed out proudly. Hope had insisted on spending the night together despite the fact that Hope finished her last one only a few hours ago. Amy can see that she’s tired. Amy gives her a rueful smile before leaning over and kissing her.

“It shouldn’t take more than an hour. Take a nap while I’m gone and we can watch a movie when I get back.”

Hope’s still looking at her with frowning lips.

“I’ll let you pick the movie.” That makes Hope smile a little and Amy slides off her bed to grab a sweater and her coat, heart fluttering a little.

She watches Hope huddle beneath the covers as Amy slips on gloves and a hat. It’s so cold outside and Hope looks so warm. Amy feels a burst of regret in her gut and she resists the urge to crawl back into bed with Hope.

Amy strides over and presses her lips to Hope’s temple.

“I’ll be back,” she says quietly.

“Soon,” Hope replies, eyes already closed.

“Soon,” Amy confirms.

And Amy pauses to look at Hope before going out into the cold.

Amy returns a little after ten. She’d texted Hope that she was gonna be late, but it was well after the promised hour. Hope hadn’t replied back and rational-Amy assumes Hope is still sleeping. But her irrational side tells her otherwise.

When she gets to her dorm, Amy breathes a sigh of relief when she spots Hope’s sleeping form.

Amy moves quietly, changing into her pajamas and standing next to her space heater for a few minutes before switching it off. Hope doesn’t stir at all. Finally, mercifully, she slides into bed next to Hope, wrapping an arm around Hope’s waist, who groans softly at her touch.

“God, you’re so warm,” Hope murmurs, voice low with sleep, pressing her body further into Amy’s.

“I’m sorry for coming back so late,” Amy whispers into her hair.

She feels Hope move her hand to squeeze Amy’s briefly.

“’S’fine. Tomorrow,” Hope sighs.

Amy tries not to feel guilty, but she does. Hope is leaving in a few days to house sit for her sister and Amy’s staying in New York for break to continue working. She’d wanted to be with Hope today and now the day is gone. It seems that they are running out of days together and Amy can practically feel them slipping away from her. Amy sighs.

“Tomorrow,” Amy echoes, dropping a kiss to Hope’s shoulder.

The last thing she thinks about is how her body molds so well to Hope’s. She forces herself not to preemptively miss that.

\---

During the spring semester, Hope overhears a couple of her classmates talking about photo submissions for some young, student-run magazine. She doesn’t think much of it until Melvin brings it up when class ends.

“Are you gonna try and submit a few pieces?” she asks, snatching the flyer on their way out.

Hope glances at it in Mel’s hands but shakes her head.

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

“You should,” Mel tells her decisively. “Your stuff is good. And what’s the harm?”

She pushes the flyer into Hope’s hands, arching a brow at Hope. 

“You should,” she repeats before they part ways.

Hope shakes her head a little with a small smile as she heads to her apartment. Hope met Mel at freshman orientation and they became friends pretty quickly. Mel doesn’t really dwell on things and that’s one of the things that Hope appreciates about her. And because she doesn’t dwell on things, she’s confident and direct. Hope trusts her judgement.

Hope looks at the flyer one last time before stuffing it into her backpack.

Hope submits a couple of her photographs. A day before the deadline. When Hope gets a text from Amy’s that she’s here, Hope closes the tab and rises to open her apartment door.

Four days later, Hope gets an email from the magazine thanking for her submission but unfortunately her submission was not accepted. Hope had stopped reading at that point. Hope is surprised by how bothered she is by it, she’d submitted her photos on a whim, after all.

It apparently, is still bothering her an hour later when she’s walking to the library with Amy.

Amy touches the inside of her elbow.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” Hope answers, looking sideways at her. Hope can hear how unconvincing she sounds but she doesn’t know what else to say. And for some reason, she can’t find it within herself to be honest with Amy. Doesn't know exactly what's holding her back. She stays silent. 

“Are you sure?” Amy asks, tilting her head a little.

Hope hesitates but nods all the same. 

She doesn’t get why she’s bothered by that rejection. It doesn’t matter. Nothing lost, nothing gained. It shouldn’t matter. She needs to sort it out.

But when they take a seat at the library, the email is pulled up, loud and seemingly innocent. And before Hope knows it, she finds herself telling Amy.

“I – uh submitted a couple of photos to some magazine,” Hope starts. Hope can see the excitement in Amy’s eyes, in the way she sits up a little straighter. No point in getting her hopes up. “They weren’t accepted,” Hope adds in a rush.

Amy frowns quizzically and Hope can’t believe she’s just told Amy. She didn’t want to hide it per se but she did want to sift through her emotions a little more. Hope feels strangely naked in front of Amy and she lays her palms flat against the table. It helps but only a little.

“Aw, Hope, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” Hope mutters, feeling her cheeks burn and hating herself for it.

Amy’s expression turns a little pensive and she reaches over almost absently to run her thumb across the back of Hope’s hand. Hope loves her for it, loves her so much that Hope forgets for a moment why she was upset in the first place.

Amy’s speaking again and Hope focuses on the sound of Amy’s voice.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Amy says gently. “You have a good eye, Hope. And you put so much work into your photography. On top of your school and volunteer work. Someone’s eventually gonna notice how amazing it is, it’s only a matter of time.” Amy smiles at her. “You’re a great photographer. And you’re only gonna get greater.”

Hope laughs, feeling lighter. “Thank you. Your pep talks have gotten way better.”

Amy yanks her hand back, looking affronted.

“My pep talks have always been great.”

Hope looks at her for a moment. “They have.”

Hope doesn’t realize that she’s holding her breath until Amy looks away. 

They have already said I love you to each other. But now, Hope is beginning to notice the moments when Amy feels it acutely, when it’s coursing through her and sweeping Hope away in its current. Which is good, because sometimes Hope thinks that she’s the only one who feels everything so deeply.

Amy catches her eye before sending her a smile, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Hope looks away biting her lip. Yeah, looks like they’re both in the deep end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't forgotten about this (how could i?) i'm back at work and i've been having to write a ton of essays. like a ton. still not quite done with those. but i've written more for this than i have for the essays so obviously i have my priorities straight. again didn't edit this to my normal standards so sorry? 
> 
> thank you for bearing with me and for reading as always. hope you're all staying safe and sane!


	5. dynamic equilibrium pt. 2

The first year of Amy’s college career comes and goes and Hope is immensely proud of that. Hope is, of course, not surprised and it's “not a big deal”, according to Amy. But Hope's proud nonetheless. 

Annabelle and Molly come to visit them again in New York during spring break of their third year, Amy’s second year. Amy and Hope had planned to take Annabelle and Molly to the library and then to the park the day after they arrive. But Amy gets called into her internship. Hope feels a twinge of something in the back of her mind. Then, Amy brushes her lips against Hope’s cheek and Hope forgets it.

“Meet me at work at like 5:00? Then we can go for dinner,” Amy tosses over her shoulder.

“Okay,” Hope says and with that Amy is gone.

Hope sighs and resigns herself to third-wheeling with Annabelle and Molly.

They’re swinging out of a coffee shop, on their way to pick up Amy. Hope is still stumped by Molly’s love for coffee and how she’s managed to convert Annabelle to it.

“Don’t worry, Hope. I’m still a Red Bull girl,” Annabelle says after Hope mentions it, nudging Hope’s shoulder a little.

Hope sips her hot cocoa dubiously. 

They’ve had a good day today. They’d ducked into a bookstore instead of the library and Molly of all people recommended a book to Hope. Hope had read the back cover, half-thinking it to be about laws on patents or something. But it actually looked interesting. Hope had thanked her and moved to pay, silently thinking how Molly has become pretty tame since high school. Or maybe it’s Hope that has gotten better since then.

Annabelle had sent her a knowing, pleased smile, and Hope gave her usual response: the middle finger.

And now they’re walking to Amy’s work. Hope is a little excited for this because she’s never been before. They walk into the building and take the elevator to the floor that Amy had texted earlier. When they walk in through the doors, Hope spots Amy quickly, who’s talking animatedly, head bent, toward a woman a little older than them.

Hope immediately dislikes her. 

A beat later, Hope feels shocked and a little ashamed by the intensity of this dislike. But before she can panic about it, Molly calls to Amy.

“Amy!”

Amy whips around with a grin, moving towards them just as Molly flashes past Annabelle and Hope to get to her. Annabelle and Hope set off at a normal pace after them.

“Feeling okay, Hope?” Annabelle asks in a low voice, peering into her face.

“Yes,” Hope replies and it only feels a little bit like a lie. Hope doesn’t know exactly why she doesn’t like this woman, standing next Amy, smiling in confusion and amusement as Amy and Molly hurl compliments at each other.

Annabelle frowns but doesn’t say anything further which Hope is grateful for because she doesn’t know how to explain that she doesn’t like this woman who hasn’t even spared them a glance.

“Hey, Annabelle,” Amy greets with a grin, giving her a quick hug before glancing at Hope.

She waves an arm to the woman next to her.

“This is Jane, my supervisor. Jane, this is Hope, my girlfriend. And Annabelle and Molly. They’re visiting from Connecticut. They go to Yale.”

“Oh, what’s Yale?” Jane asks, blinking innocently.

They all laugh, even Hope if a little half-hearted.

Jane finally turns to Hope with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Hope. Amy has told me so much about you.”

Hope shakes her hand. “I promise none of it is true.”

Jane laughs lightly.

“I just have to pull up a few files for Jane and then we can go,” Amy says to them.

“We’ll wait here,” Hope says. But Molly takes a step toward Amy and Jane.

“So, Jane how is it…” Molly starts to ask, her voice trailing off as they move into Amy’s office.

Hope gives Annabelle a questioning look who only shrugs.

“She’s super into this one pre-law class and she’s been asking professionals about their legal shit as a result,” Annabelle says, offering another shrug.

“So, you and Davidson have been together for almost a year. What do you think of that?” Hope says, glancing at Molly, Amy, and Jane through Amy’s door. 

Annabelle rolls her eyes. “That Molly is just as oblivious as Amy. Worse, I would say.” Hope chuckles. “You good, dude? You seem…tense?”

“I don’t know,” Hope answers finally.

Hope glances again at Amy in the office, whose gaze drags up to hers after a moment. But if Annabelle notices, she doesn’t comment on it. What can Hope say? She should just leave it alone.

Amy and Molly are finally heading their way, and Amy is beaming at her. And whatever worry that had been at the dip of Hope’s frown dissipates as she smiles back.

\---

Amy wakes to the sound of someone moving about in Hope’s kitchen. She thinks it’s Hope but immediately realizes that Hope is, in fact, lying next to her, warm and still asleep.

 _Hannah_ , Amy thinks just as she hears the front door open and close rather carefully.

Amy’s only met Hannah a handful of times but has already decided that she is the perfect roommate for Hope. Thoughtful and watchful much like Hope herself.

Amy relaxes back into Hope’s soft sheets, which are so soft Amy feels them lulling her back to sleep. But her mind is racing, awake. Amy glances at the clock. It's earlier than Amy normally wakes up but later than when Hope does. Amy turns to Hope and stops for a moment. Hope is on her stomach, face partially buried into her pillow. Her shirt is riding up and Amy can see the small of her back.

Now Amy is pretty much fully awake and deeper in love. She tugs the blanket over Hope because now is not the time.

Amy leans over her. “Hey, Hope.” No response. “Hope. Let’s make pancakes.”

Hope’s lips twitch but she otherwise doesn’t move. Amy leans in closer, lips at her ear and hand on the small of her bare back.

“Hope, pancakes please.”

“Tomorrow,” Hope sighs after a moment without opening her eyes. “I don't want pancakes today.”

Amy frowns at this before trying again.

“Hope, please?” Hope opens an eye at her so Amy continues and decides to switch tactics, brushing her lips quickly across Hope’s cheek. “Please, you’re so beautiful. You may eat me if you like.”

Hope snorts and blinks bleary eyes. “Inappropriate and the exact opposite of the author's intent.” Hope clears her throat as Amy gapes at her, impressed. Hope catches her expression. “You’re not the only one who reads, nerd.”

Hope yawns one last time before swinging herself out of bed. And Hope’s so beautiful Amy feels frozen, feels a little bit like prey. Feels like she should have let her sleep.

“I’ll make your pancakes but maybe later…” Hope trails off, trademark smirk in place that Amy has never quite been able to resist. 

Amy’s throat runs dry and Amy doesn’t know what in her expression gives this away but Hope’s smirk deepens in response. Amy forces herself to look away. 

If Amy had to venture a guess about what she remembered most about Hope from high school, that smirk is it. 

Before Hope can move away, Amy grabs the hem of her shirt and tugs her down, pressing her lips to Hope.

“I mean, I can have pancakes later,” Amy suggests and she’s proud to say that Hope seems as distracted as she feels.

“You’re not going for your run?” Hope mutters, glancing at her lips.

“I guess I should huh?” Amy replies, even though what she really wants to do is stay in bed, in Hope’s sheets that feel like clouds with Hope right next to her. “You do like me when I’m sweaty,” Amy adds, fighting to keep a straight face.

Hope groans and collapses against her as Amy breaks into laughter.

“It’s too early to be making fun of me.”

“I do it because I love you,” Amy tells her, her laughter subsiding. 

“Well, could you love me a little less?” Hope grumbles, pushing herself into a sitting position and moving her hair out of her face. Amy stiffens at this as she watches, taken aback by how lovely Hope is all the time.

“No,” Amy answers softly.

But Hope, unaware of what’s happened, rolls her eyes. “You’re just flirting to get some pancakes.” She pauses for a moment then shrugs, climbing out of bed again. “Whatever, it worked. They’ll be done by the time you get back.”

Hope bends down to peck her lips before striding off and Amy has to take a moment to consider how lucky she is.

\---

Halfway through the summer, Hope helps Amy move into a new apartment. But she’s running late from her internship again so she tells Hope to go on in until she gets there.

 _sarah’s home for once so she can let you in_ , reads Amy’s text. Which is a surprise to Hope as well because of Amy’s three roommates, Sarah has proved to be the most elusive. Hope’s never actually met her, has at one point or another wondered if she was even real.

But Hope shrugs, slipping her phone into her back pocket and lugging a couple of boxes up to Amy’s apartment. She raps her knuckles against the door and it swings open a moment later to reveal a blonde girl with wire-rimmed glasses and a lopsided smile.

“Hey, I’m Hope,” Hope greets, wiggling her fingers from under the boxes in greeting. “Sarah, right?”

“Yep, cool to finally meet you,” Sarah replies, her Southern twang welcoming and endearing. Hope can imagine her and Amy immediately hitting it off. “Shoot, do you need some help?”

Without really waiting for an answer, she reaches for one of the boxes in Hope’s hands.

They make a couple of trips to the car. It’s quick work with Sarah’s help and the time passes by quickly. Sarah’s easy-going and quick to laughter, and somehow strangely reminds her of Molly. Hope can see how her and Amy get along. They bring up the last of the boxes before collapsing onto the couch.

“So, you and Amy have been together since high school? That’s sweet,” Sarah says, tossing a bottle of water to Hope.

“Not quite,” Hope answers. She can feel herself blushing a little but thankfully Sarah doesn’t say anything. “We kind of ran with different crowds back then.”

Sarah looks at her in surprise. “Oh. Well, Amy talks about you like she’s known you forever. I think that she – “

But Sarah doesn’t finish because at this precise moment, Amy comes barreling in, somewhat harried, with a box of pizza and coffee cup in hand.

“Amy, you absolute angel,” Sarah greets, bouncing to her feet and grabbing plates and napkins.

Amy leans down to quickly press a kiss to Hope’s cheek, which is somehow more endearing than if she’d kissed her on the lips. Hope tries not to let it show.

“Thank you for helping Hope unpack, Sarah. You didn’t have to,” Amy says, shifting the pizza box onto the coffee table before plopping down next to Hope.

Sarah waves her off. “It barely took any time. Hope carried up most of the boxes anyway.”

Hope notices how Amy’s brow shoots up in response.

“Did she now? Did she – drop any of them?”

“Of course, I didn’t,” Hope interjects, aghast and Sarah laughs.

“Not a single one,” Sarah replies.

“Surprising,” Amy mutters, reaching for a slice.

“Your faith in me is unrelenting, Amy,” Hope comments dully.

“You fall over doing yoga.”

“Yoga is hard, Amy. I always forget to breathe.”

“How do you forget to breath?!”

Hope feels her cheeks burn but then Sarah speaks.

“I’m sorry, I’m with Hope on this one, Amy. Yoga fuckin’ sucks.”

Hope gestures to her triumphantly.

“See? Told you.”

Sarah laughs again before moving to stand, brushing her hands on her jeans.

“I’m sorry but I should get going. Tash invited us to her boyfriend’s play. Do you want to come?” 

Amy gives her a sheepish smile. “I kinda just want to stay on this couch.”

“No worries, I figured you’d be exhausted. I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”

Then, Sarah grabs her coat and is out the door in a flash. Amy lets out a breath before turning to Hope.

“I’m sorry I was so late. A couple of employees up and quit so me and another intern stuck around to help out,” Amy says, leaning further into the couch cushions.

Hope sends her a look of alarm. “Two? That’s nuts.”

“What can you do?” Amy shrugs dismissively. “I also got you your favorite tea.”

Hope grins gleefully as she reaches for the cup in Amy’s hands.

“You’re gonna have to give me more than tea to make up for the fact that I’ve moved most of your stuff in already,” Hope states, blowing gently on her cup.

“I’d planned on it,” Amy replies so casually that Hope starts, glancing at her with wide eyes.

Hope feels her cheeks burn again but instead of teasing her about it, Amy gives her a half-smile.

“Thank you for helping me move. I adore you more than I can say sometimes,” Amy says, her voice clear and her gaze steady.

Hope doesn’t know why but even after all this time, Amy looking at her and saying nice things about her is still very shocking. She had spent so much of her time in high school staring at the back of Amy’s head, Amy's voice voice always drifting away and Hope only catching it in passing. And sometimes still, Hope doesn’t know what to do with all of Amy’s focus, renowned for its intensity, when it’s solely on her. 

“What are girlfriends for?” Hope mumbles, staring at her hands.

Hope feels Amy’s hand on her chin and sees Amy’s smile a split second before she leans in to kiss her like an answer.

\---

The first time Hope makes Amy lemon squares, Amy’s waltzing in through the door of Hope’s apartment after her class. The divine smell of them hits her square in the chest and Amy almost blurts out ‘I love you.’ She only just manages to stop herself from doing so, biting her tongue in the process. 

She dumps her backpack onto Hope’s couch before making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Lemon squares?” Amy asks nonchalantly. 

Hope flashes a smirk at her as she sticks on a pair of oven mitts.

“Uh-huh. I heard you mention something to Molly about missing your mom’s lemon squares. I don’t know what recipe she uses but…” Hope shrugs, suddenly adorably self-conscious. “I tried.”

Amy’s got ‘I love you’ on her tongue again but it seems like such a stupid thing to say just because Hope is being the normal, attentive girlfriend that she’s always been. Amy reaches for a square to distract herself but Hope slaps her hand away.

“They’re _hot_.”

“You’re hot,” Amy says unthinkingly and pointedly ignores Hope’s smirk as her own cheeks redden. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t make something sweet for you?” Hope asks. But Amy can tell that Hope avoids her eyes. 

She waits a moment. Then she waits another moment, patiently, as Hope sets the tray of lemon squares on the counter to cool and takes off her oven mitts, painstakingly slow.

“Mel introduced me to some of her photography friends. They ended up really liking some of my stuff and so they invited me to participate in their group exhibition. It’s not a big deal,” Hope adds but Amy can tell that she’s smothering a smile. 

Amy grins up at her, forgetting the lemon squares for a moment.

“You’re gonna be in an exhibition?”

“Yeah, in a month,” Hope mutters, her cheeks reddening in the way that Amy adores. “It’s on a Friday. You’ll be able to come, right?” Hope asks, frowning a little anxiously.

“Of course. I’ll make sure to take the day off.” Amy assures her as she pushes herself up to kiss Hope before pulling away. “I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

Hope doesn’t say anything, absently reaching over to straighten up the bowls and cooking utensils on the counter, suppressing another smile. And Amy knows it then, that Hope feels proud and excited. And loved. And everything else Amy believes she deserves.

Amy touches Hope’s jaw and kisses her cheek before turning back to those wonderful, wonderful lemon squares. And is belatedly and decisively bowled over by their significance. That Hope, in her _own_ personal excitement and joy, thought to bake _Amy’s_ favorite food. Amy’s so moved by this that she feels as if the world goes quiet for a split second. When this passes, Amy sees Hope give her a curious smile.

“Have you told Grace or Annabelle yet?” Amy asks, partly to rein in her emotions and partly because she wants the world to know. Hope shakes her head. “Why don’t you call them? Let them bask in your glory and I’ll bring you tea, and then we can make a fort and watch a movie or something.”

Hope’s eyes quite literally light up, in such a way that Amy wishes desperately to memorize them.

“Really? I’ve been thinking about so many improvements about the last one we made. You’re the best,” Hope says quickly, pecking her lips and shooting away to her room.

Amy smiles, reaching for the mug and tea bags. As she’s waiting for the water to boil, Amy decides to order dinner from the Greek place that Hope loves so much. As she’s dialing the number, she hears Hope speaking in low tones to Grace. But she also hears Hope moving about her room, objects falling onto the floor with a dull thud. Amy is almost positive that Hope has already started building the fort.

Amy’s just placed the order when Hope comes back out into the living room. Hope strides purposefully to the storage ottoman near the couch and pulls out a throw blanket. All the while listening intently to Grace on the phone.

Hope holds up the throw blanket when she catches Amy staring, grinning when Amy gives her a thumbs up in return.

Hope goes back to her room, talking animatedly into the phone and Amy goes back to the tea. Amy loves Hope, so much that it feels like a secret. 

Amy walks in to Hope’s room, setting the tea down carefully on her side table. She takes in the pillows and blankets strewn on the floor, Hope curled on the floor next to them as she eyes them critically. But most especially, Amy takes in Hope’s smile that crinkles her radiant eyes, back curving over her knees as she draws them to her chest. Amy loves her. And if that’s a secret, it’s a good one to have.

\---

Hope is nervous about today. She shouldn’t be but she is. When she wakes, she finds that Amy is gone, feeling a little hollow inside at the empty space next to her. But then she spots a slip of paper on Amy’s pillow. Hope reaches for it curiously.

_Sorry, I just remembered that I’d forgotten to add some of the finishing touches to our project and went in early to finish them. Can’t wait to see your exhibition! I’m so proud of you. –Amy_

Hope blinks, still moved by the things that Amy does for her even when they aren’t a surprise. She runs through the day in her head as she makes her way to the kitchen for some tea. _Go to class, pick up parents from the airport, meet Amy at exhibition. Exhibition._

Easy enough.

Hope’s so nervous. But as long as she follows these four steps, she thinks she’ll be okay.

Class flies by and is pretty dull. And soon, Hope is picking up her parents and going to have lunch with them. They’re so proud of her, beaming and asking to see the photos again even though they'd seen them a hundred times. Proud just like they were when she graduated from high school.

Her dad signals to their waiter for the check when they’ve finished eating.

“No cake?” Hope can’t help but pout a little.

Her dad looks at her in surprise. “Don’t you have to be there early?”

Hope checks her phone and curses internally at the time. She also notices that she hasn’t heard from Amy but this doesn’t surprise her. This project will factor into Amy’s future employment at the organization and she knows Amy will do anything to make it perfect.

“I guess,” she answers reluctantly, rising.

“Go, we don’t want you to be late. We’ll see you and Amy there,” her mom says, waving her off.

Hope has given herself an ample amount of time to get ready, which is very important because she ends up changing her clothes about three times.

Annabelle FaceTimes her just as she’s finished.

“We just wanted to tell you congrats again,” Annabelle says, and Hope can hear a very distant Molly yelling her congratulations. “You’ll take lots of pictures, yeah?”

“You want me to take photos of my photos?” Hope asks, amused.

“You’d be a bad photographer if you didn’t. Look who’s here by the way.”

Annabelle flips the camera to reveal Hope’s sister.

“Grace, what are you doing there?” Hope stops doing her hair, frowning quizzically.

“I had a conference nearby and I'm killing a couple of hours before going to this small reception at seven.” Grace pauses, beaming at her. “We’re very proud of you, Bob Hope. You’re gonna get discovered at this exhibition, watch. And I won’t hear the end of it from mom and dad. I already don’t,” she mutters.

Suddenly, Hope hears Molly’s booming voice again.

“Hey, Grace! How do you exclude certain data points again? My code keeps giving me an error.”

Grace walks off. The camera turns back to Annabelle just in time for Hope to catch her rolling her eyes.

“Grace is thrilled to be here because Molly's been bombarding her with questions since she got here. They've been messing with datasets in this computer program, I guess? I don't know. I forgot how much Molly likes microbiology. And statistics – “ 

“That's on you for forgetting. Molly's always been like that, even in high school,” Hope teases and Annabelle lets out a chuckle. 

“Yeah. Sorry we couldn’t make it,” Annabelle tells her after a moment.

“It’s no big deal. I know you guys are busy,” Hope says. She’s certain Annabelle, Molly, and Grace would have come if they could.

“Will your exhibition still be up when I visit in a couple of weeks?”

“Should be.”

“Great. We can recreate this entire night! I need you to remember every detail. Text me later, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Bye.”

Hope heads out the door. She glances at her phone but still sees nothing from Amy. Hope feels a pinprick of worry at her temple but chalks this up to her own nerves. And she just misses Amy.

She sends a quick text to her as she steps onto the subway.

_heading to the place now. can’t wait to see you_

Hope closes her eyes briefly, feels only the subway beneath her feet as it whisks her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally made it! sorry it took so long, i'm pretty tired most days and sometimes writing is hard. but let's all take a moment to imagine hope, doing yoga. this may come as a surprise but people can be bad at yoga and hope is definitely one of them. thank you so much for reading, as always!


End file.
